


Chicken Flavoured Rice Crackers

by orphan_account



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Angst, Autism, Autistic Richie Tozier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, straight vibin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24771763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Richie doesn't understand why people react the way they do - or why he reacts so differently.or: Richie has autism (although not explicitly stated) and gets upset.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 106





	Chicken Flavoured Rice Crackers

**Author's Note:**

> i finished this at early hours in the morning and has not been beta'd (i also have not ... written fanfic in 5 years ... )
> 
> side note: richie's autism in this story is based of my own autism, no two autistic people are the same, this is just my experience.

He doesn’t like to think too much about it. Instead, he swallows down yoghurt that never sits right in his mouth, too gooey, too occupying. He runs his hands along textures he doesn’t like, trying to force himself into liking them. He grabs blankets, pinching the fabric till it’s doubled over and then he moves his fingers in circles - he swallows down his anger and gags. 

Richie likes being the centre of attention for good reasons, not bad reasons. He doesn’t want to be a bother. So, he pulls on socks before putting his shoes on and is on the verge of crying all day, the seam of his sock digging into his toes wrong. There’s rice crackers in his lunch box today, they don’t smell right, he thinks and immediately pushes the thought to the side. The plastic wrap feels nice against his fingers till it touches the seasoning and he jerks his hands away.

He looks up. Mike is laughing at something Bill said, Stan watches on with a small smile, he adds a comment and then both Mike and Bill are hitting their fists against the table. Beverly and Ben are talking quietly, trading their lunches.

No one at the table watches him. He picks a cracker up, studying it before taking a huge bite - it needs to be big or it won’t feel right. It’s too brittle, snaps in half in his mouth. As disgusting as it is, he prefers them stale, they were chewy that way. They weren’t noisy and the chewing took longer, keeping him occupied. 

He feels eyes on him, he looks to his left side, Eddie is watching him chew his too crunchy cracker curiously. Richie takes another bite, careful not to show his outward rage at the wrong texture. “D’you wan’ one?” Richie asks, mouth full of chicken flavoured crumbs. Eddie cringes.

“One that hasn’t got your slobber all over it, yes.” Eddie snatches the last cracker from the plastic wrap and Richie silently thanks every heavenly force that he has Eddie, who steals his food for no reason other than it ‘looks tasty’. Richie swallows the food in his mouth, yuck.

He stares disdainfully at the leftovers in his hand, he really should just pack his own lunch. He was 16, he was supposed to be able to do all these things. Eddie nudges him with his shoulder. “I got a new comic.”. 

Richie smiles brightly, he loves comics. Eddie always keeps his tucked away in a drafty closet so they’re slightly chilled, always feels nice against his fingertips. Sometimes, he pretends that he's fallen asleep reading the comic just so he can feel the chill against his face. It never lasts long, Eddie kicks him with socked feet until he ‘wakes up’. 

“Is that an invitation, Eds?” Richie asks, nudging him back. Eddie scowls and aggressively takes a bite of the stolen cracker. He nods and Richie imitates him, furrowing his eyebrows and turning his lips downwards - he nods back, “I’ve missed dear ol’ Mrs. K!” Richie puckers his lips and makes aggressive kissy noises. Eddie smacks him on the shoulder.

Richie glances at Eddie’s own lunch, all that’s left are empty containers and wrappers. Although Eddie is small, (Richie always wants to compare their hands. It’s not gay. Friends can do that.) he eats like a freight train. Whenever Eddie sleeps over, with a week of convincing Mrs. K, he ransacks Richie’s pantry and eats half of the household’s food. He usually ends up hunched over the toilet, vomiting and shrieking at the same time. 

Eddie hates vomiting but he still repeats the cycle every time he’s over. His parents asked him to let them know when Eddie’s coming so they can restock the food. They prepare for Eddie like you would for a hurricane. 

By the time Richie is done thinking of Eddie-weather metaphors, people are packing up their lunches and moving onto the next class. He tries to remember what he has next, he draws a blank. The cracker is still in his hands and the flavouring is all over his hands.

A trip to the bathroom with a detour to the bin it is.

;

Eddie’s room is always so neat and tidy. Richie stands in the middle of the room, looking around to see any changes. There’s a new novel on his bedside table but other than that … nothing new. 

He toes off his shoes and rips off his socks, sighing in relief at the ability to wiggle his toes. He makes sure to line them up by the door, not wanting a lecture from Eddie.

Richie slams himself onto Eddie’s bed, he lands on the end and does what he does best - make everything untidy. He grabs the edge of Eddie’s quilt and rolls himself to the headboard. He lets out snickers to himself from inside his blanket burrito. 

He can hear Eddie climbing the stairs, having to spend a few extra minutes in the living room to tell his mum about the filthy boy upstairs. When Eddie gets to the doorway he lets out a loud sigh. “Richie, what are you doing?”

“Keeping myself warm, duh,” Richie says. Eddie grumbles but doesn’t comment, moving to his closet to drag out the best box ever. Full almost to the brim with comics, Eddie reaches in and pulls out one that is different from the others.

It glistens in the rays of sun peeking through the window. He tosses it onto the end of the bed and joins Richie-burrito. As soon as Eddie’s seated, Richie starts trying to snatch the comic out of his hands. Eddie gets through almost three pages before Richie manages to grab it, arms sticking awkwardly out of the quilt. 

He holds it up and catches a glimpse at one panel before Eddie grabs it back. They both pause, the comic held in between the both of them. Eddie starts pulling and on instinct Richie grabs on for purchase. 

The two of them should not be allowed near anything new - you should probably wrap both of them in bubble wrap and call it a day. Eddie is now holding the book yet Richie is holding both the first and second page. 

Eddie gasps, staring at the two pages that should be in his brand new comic book. “Richie!” He cries, grabbing the ripped pages out of Richie’s limp hand. 

“I didn’t mean to!” Richie cries back, trying to wriggle himself out of the blankets. 

“I bought that with my pocket money, you ass! You seemed upset and…” Eddie cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, throwing the comic book on the floor. He grabs his hair in his hands and keels over.

Richie honestly doesn’t understand. It’s a comic book - Eddie could always buy another with his next batch of pocket money. Eddie could just tape the pages back in for god’s sake! “What’s the big deal? Glue them back in.” Richie untangles himself from the blanket to pick up the book.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!” Eddie screeches. Richie takes a step back, comic book clenched tightly in his hand. He doesn’t understand. Why doesn’t he understand. The noise that Richie makes isn’t one he’s made before, at least not in front of people. 

He takes another step back, toes clenching in the carpet. He opens his mouth to talk but he can’t. He grunts again, Eddie looks up, furious. Richie shakes his head, the curls at his neck make him want to scratch and yank them out. He can’t move his hands, they’re stuck by his sides, crumpling the comic book and pulling at the seam of his jeans. 

Eddie anger slowly dissipates as he looks at the distressed boy in front of him. 

Richie has a hoodie on and suddenly it’s all he can feel - he needs it off, off, off. But, his hands won’t move. He repeats the word aloud to himself, his tongue feels swollen in his mouth and everything moves like honey. Eddie is annoyed at having to deal with me, he thinks. 

His hand moves, bunching up at the back of his head to stop the feeling of the curls brushing his skin. He drops the comic, hears it thumps against the floor. Both hands are in his hair and he wants the sensation to be gone. Tugging on his hair means moving fabric on his arms and the repetition grows louder. His throat is sore.

Eddie stands up slowly, holding his hands out like calming a distressed animal. He grabs onto Richie’s hands to pull them away from his scalp but Richie backs away till his back hits a wall and shakes his head harder. “Off! Off!” Richie keeps chanting.

Eddie has no clue what to do, he makes sure to keep his hands to himself and speaks softly, “Rich, what do you need off?”. Richie unlatches one hand and pulls at his hoodie sleeve for a second before replacing his hand. 

“Alright, I’m gonna touch you just to get your hoodie off, ok?” Eddie shuffles forward slowly waiting for Richie to give him a sign he heard. When Richie makes a strangled whining noise, he makes fast work of gripping the bottom of the hoodie and hauling it upwards. The chanting stops.

Eddie manages to pull it up and over Richie’s head, the fabric ends up bunched around Richie’s elbows. When Richie starts wriggling, Eddie steps back. He looks around the room for something else to help.

Whilst Richie pulls off the rest of his hoodie, hands finally free from his hair, Eddie rushes over to his drawers, rummaging quickly through the contents of three drawers before he finds what he’s looking for. He holds it out for Richie to take.

Richie looks at it before a small smile graces his face. He slips it over his head and tucks all straggling pieces of hair so they can’t touch his skin anymore. He takes a few deep breaths, no longer feeling like he was dipped in honey then stuck on a rollercoaster. He lets his shaky legs give out and finally slides to the floor.

Eddie follows his lead, sitting cross legged in front of him, waiting patiently till Richie seems back to his normal self, smiley and affectionate. When the sun has started to go down, painting yellow and orange around the room, Richie slumps forward into Eddie.

Eddie hugs him tightly, running a hand up and down his back. Richie sighs in relief, the worst of it seems to be over. “You better fix my comic, asshole.” Eddie whispers into his hair, making sure Richie doesn’t know he’s serious. 

Richie laughs.

.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading ... thank u so much !!
> 
> u can come shout at me on twitter @radioflashlight . i would enjoy da company .


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